


The Mistress and the Master

by TibbieTibbs



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lap Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Smut, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, no y/n, reader is on birth control, sabaac, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29009808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TibbieTibbs/pseuds/TibbieTibbs
Summary: “The best thing about this cantina,” He murmurs quietly after a moment, his voice heavy in your ear. “Is that once the cards are being dealt, no one really pays attention to the players.”As he speaks his fingers slide down, pressing feather-light between your legs over the fabric of your gauzy skirt. He applies the slightest bit of pressure, allowing the silken fabric to slide over your heated skin as his fingers drag slowly over your slit.--A game of Sabacc gets a little more interesting when you have to play it sitting on Boba’s lap.
Relationships: Boba Feet & Reader, Boba Fett & You, Boba Fett/Original Female Character(s), Boba Fett/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 119





	The Mistress and the Master

When you had heard the alert on your commlink earlier this evening, a part of you - a large part - just wanted to ignore it. You had just stepped out the refresher, scrubbed clean after a long day of work, alternating between long hours of examining security footage, and keeping an eye on the newcomers at the Palace. 

The only fact that the incoming call was from Boba Fett, Kingpin of the Palace, and your lover for the past few months, made you thumb on the comm and accept the call. He was down in the cantina, and had tersely requested that you stop by as soon as possible. 

The edge of your mouth curved up into a small smile, you knew that if there had been a _real_ issue you would have already heard about it. The alerts on your datapad had been silent all evening, no signs of any trouble or disturbance. 

Pausing by your wardrobe, you consider your options. You decide to dress up a little tonight, a slinky little number that you would never be caught dead in during working hours. It was a take on the popular style worn by dancers, something you had picked out during a private shopping trip to Mos Eisley. There was someone you had in mind when you bought it, and you finally had the chance to try it out tonight. 

The skirt was gauzy, made up of multiple ankle-length layers of silks in rich shades of burgundy and crimson. Twin slits on the side traveled high up your hips, showcasing a gold band around your upper thigh which disguises a sheathed vibroblade. The bodice of the dress was tight fitting, with a draping cowl neckline. The straps of the dress were made from thin, delicate gold chains, arching over your shoulders before criss-crossing twice down your back. 

It would be nice to step out of the uniform of black tactical pants, boots, a dark shirt, and a vest that you usually wore. Most of your time at the Palace was spent behind-the-scenes, either monitoring from the shadows or via datapads and computers. When you had to go out into the Palace halls you donned an oval-shaped, featureless mask with a horizontal tinted visor. It helped keep you anonymous, and enforced your authority when things got messy. 

Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you crack a smile as you slip out of your room, and down the hallways. The Cantina was two floors down, and you wound your way towards the turbolift. 

Boba Fett had made renovations to the Palace after taking it over, replacing the Dancer’s Pit, and updating the bedrooms and entertainment areas so that no traces of the Hutts remained. One of the rooms in the level below the throne room had been converted to a medium-sized cantina, complete with guards and scanning devices for security. And as Head of Security at the Palace, you had personally seen that it was up to your high standards. 

He went down to the cantina every once in a while, though it was always for business. When you asked why he bothered going there, he had confided that it helped strengthen business relations and camaraderie. Though his appearances were mainly just for show - he had no interest in gambling, and typically ducked out after a few hours. He was too cautious and paranoid to get drunk on spotchka in front of people he didn’t fully trust.

Fett had invited you to the cantina before, but the thought of spending your small amount of free time in a sweaty, drunk-filled cantina had made you wrinkle your nose. You always politely declined, opting to wait for him instead in one of the bedrooms - either his or yours, he always ended up finding you afterwards no matter which one you picked. 

Not wanting to deal with the guards at the front entrance, you slip down a side corridor, using your thumbprint to scan the panel of the door that was for employees-only. They creak open and the room is dim, loud, and crowded with humanoids from all across the galaxy. The air is pungent with t’bac smoke and perfumes, masking the smell of many bodies packed together. A live band made it up Biths plays on the corner stage, and your head bobs to the beat as you quickly scan the room. 

You find them in a smoky corner, eight of them seated at a large, round table. Boba was at the far back, sitting against the wall with a large stack of chips piled in front of him. He cuts a very imposing figure, broad chest clad in olive-green Mandalorian armor, handsome face covered with an unreadable helmet. Even sitting in a cantina chair, he exudes an aura of being completely and totally in charge. 

His companions were new, they had just arrived in town for business. You recognized most of them, they were ones that you had personally vetted earlier today. Putting a little swing in your hips, you approached the table with a smile. 

Boba spots you first, naturally, as he was always keeping cautious tabs on the room. He stills, body hard as stone, as he takes in your skimpy dress and smile. Then, his helmet is tilting slowly to the side, and then down, to view all of you, the hand resting on the table curling into a tight fist. 

Your circle over to his seat, hand reaching out to touch him gently on the shoulder. His bare hand flies up to wrap around your arm. Before you can react, he’s tugging you roughly onto his lap, settling you down on his thick thigh. You adjust your weight, balancing on his leg and bracing your hands on his knee. His gloves are off, better to hold the cards, and you spot them tucked against his thigh and the armrest. 

The table you sat at was tall, with a thick rim running around the edge to hold drinks. The eight chairs curving around the table were luxurious with high backs, upholstered and padded in rich soft, red leather. Twin curved armrests decorated the sides, connecting solidly to the seat of the chair. The two of you fit comfortably in the seat, it had been designed to hold a wide variety of humanoids. When sitting, the table hits you right at your ribs, allowing you to rest your arms easily on the rim.

“Did you dress up for me, Princess?” His gravelly voice is barely audible above all the noises and music in the room. His fingers slide over the smooth fabric covering your thigh, “I didn’t know you knew how to have fun.”

Your nose crinkles in exasperation and slight amusement. The nickname was sort of a personal joke. The first time he said it was within the first week you met, he had poked fun at your no-nonsense, bossy behavior that sometimes slipped out when you were exasperated with all the macho mercenary behavior at the Palace.

You were self-aware enough to admit that _yes,_ you were a little bit of a control freak, but he was even more so. And also _yes_ , you preferred to follow the rules, and could get a little stubborn sometimes when you knew you were right. But you always had good intentions, and that’s what mattered, right?

Initially, you had hated his teasing, and had argued that your personality made you a good match to work at the Palace. He didn’t want a yes-man on his security staff if anyone’s life was ever on the line. He had chuckled, agreeing with you, and you had soon moved into a room at the Palace. 

You think he liked that about you though, he loved knocking down your walls and making you come undone. Relished in turning you into pleading, moaning putty in his hands. Stripping you out of your stuffy uniform, and then drawing all sorts of beautiful noises from you for hours. It was after the first time he had growled “ _Come for me, princess_ ”, thrusting into you with his fist wrapped around your hair, you decided maybe the nickname wasn’t so bad, after all. 

Boba Fett waits for your answer, and you furrow your brow at him in mock-annoyance. Pretending to leave, you push on his thighs to stand up, but he rumbles a chuckle and pins your hips down with his hands. After he confirms that you’re not going to move again, his hand moves to brush your back, warm fingers running against your bare skin. You shiver a little at the touch, leaning into his hand. 

Peeking over your shoulder, you give him a sweet, secretive smile, and you reach for his hand, tugging it around you. His thick arm wraps around your waist, pulling your back tight against this armor-clad chest, the metal pressing coldly against your bare skin. Wiggling your hips, you get comfortable in his lap. 

There was a break in the rounds, the dealer droids leaving the table to allow the players time to refill drinks or use the refreshers. A few men at the next table over stop by to talk to Boba, taking a few moments to comment on the recent round and local news. 

“Your dancer is pretty, Fett.” Another of the men passing by comments, slyly glancing your way. 

You freeze, trying to get a glance at who had spoken. Boba Fett did _not_ keep dancers, or slaves for that matter. Freeing the enslaved from Bib Fortuna was one of the first things he had done, and was one of the first of many things you loved about him. Everyone who worked at the Palace was either paid credits, or exchanged their time for goods and services. 

These men either must be outlanders, or just woefully ignorant if they were from Tatooine. However, it would be safer for both of you to let him believe this little charade, so you were certain Boba would play along. You keep silent, waiting for him to answer.

The strong, muscular arm around your waist tightens, but his reply is casual as his head inclines in agreement, “That she is.”

“Does she dance here, when she’s not with you?” The tallest one, _the stupidest one_ , asks him.

“She’s part of my _personal_ collection.” His voice drops, making a show of dropping his hand to the blaster on his thigh. 

“Perhaps my master will allow me to dance for you gentlemen, next time.” You comment demurely, eyes downcast. 

They stammer excuses, bidding the table goodbye as they move on to seats at the bar. Just over the music you hear a low, angry growl in your ear. You knew your comment had pissed him off, and your lips curve in a small smirk. 

Moments later the droids return to the tables, and the games start up again. You perch on one thigh as Boba grabs his cards, gathering them all in one hand. The hand on your waist drops to your knee, rough fingers brushing over silk-covered skin for a long moment, before slowly starting to travel upwards. 

They pause at the band on your thigh, fingertips brushing the cool metal as they travel around to the sheath. You hear a low hum as his thumb traces the edge of the hilt before continuing to move upwards.

“What are you doing?” You hiss at him, barely audible.

“Quiet now, little one.” Boba rumbles back, his fingers trailing slowly, moving around to your inner thigh.

Your heartbeat, steadily climbing, seems to beat in your ear, drowning out the raucous sounds from the tables and booths around you. Boba’s helmet shifts, taking another glance around the room before his head comes to lean in close to yours. 

“The best thing about this cantina,” He murmurs quietly after a moment, his voice heavy in your ear. “Is that once the cards are being dealt, no one really pays attention to the players.”

As he speaks his fingers slide down, pressing feather-light between your legs over the fabric of your gauzy skirt. He applies the slightest bit of pressure, allowing the silken fabric to slide over your heated skin as his fingers drag slowly over your slit. 

The high, thick armrests and tall table hid most of his movements, but your cheeks still burn at the thought of someone seeing you. But another part of you feels a sharp spark of arousal ignite in your lower stomach. 

You slowly let your thighs slide open, giving him a little more access. He exhales in your ear, fingers dipping further down to reach more of you. You sigh into his touch, letting his fingers slide over the silk. After entirely too short a moment, his hand pauses, and then he’s shoving the hexagonal-shaped cards into your hands. 

“Play for me, princess.” He purrs in your ear, as your fingers fasten around the two cards

A little confused, you give them a quick once-over. If you were being honest, you aren’t a bad sabacc player, but part of you doubts that’s why he handed them over. There was a low murmur at your movements, his table was no doubt expecting to play against the King of the Palace, their new potential business partner, not this no-name girl that just showed up unannounced. 

“It’s no problem.” Fett chuckles, giving a dismissive hand gesture. “It may be better for your pockets, she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

You turn and shoot him the dirtiest look you can muster without causing suspicion. _Asshole_. Turning back and smiling prettily, you glance down at the cards. Not a bad opening hand. 

“What number am I trying to get again?” You ask a little too loudly, batting your eyelashes at the other players. 

He scoffs, a quiet, amused sound from beneath his helmet. His fingers press a little tighter against your center and your expression falters for a moment, lips parting in pleasure. 

The round continues, with players drawing cards or locking them in. Boba Fett’s cards were pretty good, but you were feeling just a little petty. You toss the cards down, ending the call phase with a lousy score of 16. Shrugging innocently, you watch the chips in front of you get dragged away. 

Boba’s other hand, the one not teasing your center, twitches against your thigh in annoyance. You are certain he is thinking of punishing you for your cheekiness. He may even be thinking about bending you over this table and spanking you until your cheeks are a pretty shade of pink. The thought makes the heat in your stomach coil, and you shift against him in anticipation. 

His hand leaves your slit, skimming back down over your upper thigh, feeling the silk fabric between calloused fingers. As an excited chatter starts when the Trandoshan across from you calls, increasing the pot, his hand dips below the silk, sliding up and up and up. 

You give a small jolt and a little squeak as his fingers brush against the soft, bare flesh of your mound. You hear an intake of breath behind you, and then a deep chuckle of amusement.

“ _Dirty_ girl.” He breathes, pleased with this turn of events. His fingertips brush back and forth against your skin, never quite dipping as low as you wanted. 

The new round continues, and he waits until it’s your turn again to make his move. As your eyes flick across the cards, you feel it, the slightest brush against your folds. Your thighs clench together and his hand stills for a moment, before resuming his descent.

Stifling a whine, you shift your flowy skirts to cover your lap more as you play your card on the sabacc table, locking it in. His fingers part your wet lips, gathering your arousal before sliding up to circle your clit. 

You do jump then, slamming your knee hard into the table. His hand pauses again as seven pairs of eyes glance your way. Blushing prettily, your swipe a hand over your knee and murmur an apology, eyes downcast. Their eyes move on, and as they do his thick middle fingers slides into you, thumb anchored on your clit. 

Slowly fucking you with his finger, he slides in and out of your heat. Just as you start to get used to the sensation and begin to relax, he adds his ring finger, pressing both digits to curl against your inner walls. He teases you, curling his fingers in and out of you, thumb rubbing against you and making you squirm. 

He keeps this up for several rounds, and you’re so distracted that you flip your cards around and bomb out on the next game. His touch was torture, he was moving agonizingly slow, causing you to ache with need and arousal. He had drawn out your pleasure before, keeping you perpetually on the edge but never like this. You felt the need to do _something_ , anything. 

Boba’s erection has been digging into your lower back, you’ve been able to feel it since you sat down. You press your hips back, grinding against the hard ridge. That’s when you start to get an _interesting_ idea. After your next turn, you keep your left elbow resting on the table, cards fanned out in your hand. Your right hand sneaks down, reaching behind you to palm him through his pants. 

He hisses a sharp breath, almost passing as a moan. You smile to yourself, Boba could be silent as the grave when he wanted to, so getting him to make any kind of noise made you preen. While eyes are not on you, you work at the button and zipper, and he lets you, his fingers starting to slow within you as he’s momentarily distracted. 

This wasn’t typically your style, you liked to play it safe, and exhibitionism wasn’t normally one of your kinks. But there was something about Boba that made you so needy that those thoughts went right out the window. 

You raise your hips slightly and he catches on, allowing his fingers to slide out from you. Your right hand cups his thick, heavy flesh, and you draw him out. With the high seats and your flowy skirt, you’re sure no one could see him. 

Lifting yourself slightly, you trap his cock between your thighs, pressing it against your wet lips. You shift your hips forward, gliding yourself against his hard shaft, thighs and core clenching as the tip rubs against your clit. Repeating the motion, you grind down against him, utterly enthralled by the pleasure that radiates from the swollen bundle of nerves.

Occasionally his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you into a slow, tantalizing rhythm, his thick cock slicked with your arousal, before letting you go. You keep this up for another round, sliding yourself against his length, his hips rising the slightest bit to rub against you.

You’re honestly impressed, your jaw is clenching, cards hiding your face when you need to, but Boba has not made a sound. Currently he was lounging, one arm slung lazily on the armrest, the other wrapping around your waist. His only tells, things only you would notice, are the way his hips shift to press into you, and the way his fingers would flex against your abdomen when your clit slid against the sensitive head of his cock. 

On the next rotation of your hips, the head of his cock catches and presses against your entrance. Freezing, you throw a glance over your shoulder at him. His helmet cocks to the side, turning to meet your gaze. You don’t need his helmet to be off to tell he is smirking as his hips buck upwards, pressing his tip into your entrance. 

Your lips part for a moment before your jaw snaps shut with a click. Boba Fett is a massive man, broad and strong in all aspects, and that definitely applied to his cock as well. His shaft stretches you out, and you are wet enough that he is able to slide in, but it doesn’t prevent the slow, delicious burn as he enters you. 

His hands flip under your thighs, almost cupping your ass. He subtly lifts you, shifting his whole body as if he’s just adjusting your weight on his lap. Instead, he is getting a better angle so he can sink his cock fully into your wet heat. Your teeth clamp down on the tip of your tongue, fighting to keep silent. Your body clenches in an attempt to remain still, but that just causes your pussy to grip his cock tighter, slowing his movement. 

All of your actions are done for your own benefit and self-preservation, you would be mortified if anyone noticed. But you were certain, _extremely certain_ , that Boba would not give a shit. In fact, there was probably nothing he would love more than to yank your knees up to your shoulders, and let them all watch his impressive girth disappear into you. 

A low moan slides from your lips as his hips finally meet yours again, sunken in fully to the hilt. He fills you impossibly, sometimes you’re not really sure how it all fits. 

You’re allowed a few moments to adjust, getting used to his cock impaling you. The round returns to you and you’re able to scrape by at the end with 21 points, a respectable enough play. Not enough to win, but not another obvious bomb out. 

Then, he’s just resting inside you, letting you keep his cock hard and warm. It takes you a moment to realize he’s letting you take the reins now, something he rarely did. Boba Fett always enjoyed being in charge, in every aspect of his life. 

As carefully as you can, you rock your hips from side to side, feeling him move within you. You experiment, seeing how far you could rotate your hips while keeping your upper half as still as possible. 

You must be doing something right, his hands come back to rest on your hips, fingers digging into the fabric. He doesn’t make a sound other than breathing, but you can hear it hitch when you move your hips in a circle, so you do it again. It feels good but _fuck_ , you need more. This still wasn’t quite enough, you needed more friction, _now_. You would just have to be a little careful about how you did it. 

You lean over the table on your next turn, balancing your elbows on the high edge while keeping your cards hidden. As you lean, his cock slides most of the way out of you. You hold this pose for a few moments, pretending to study your options. Locking in a card on the table, you drop back down onto his lap, his cock sinking all the way to the hilt. 

His hands are bruisingly tight on your hips as he fights to bite back a moan. You clench around him, feeling his cock jump inside you. Broad thighs shift underneath yours, his hips making small, rough thrusts upwards into your heat. 

You’re able to get away with this move a few more times, rocking forward to view the cards on the table, letting yourself fall back onto his thighs. His cock fills you each time, deliciously brushing your walls. 

After another turn, his fingers make their way back under your skirt again. They circle your clit while your rock back and forth on top of him. His fingers are damp, pressing into your sopping wet folds, gliding over your bundle of nerves. You can feel your breath speed up, hitching when he rubs _just right_. 

You’re sure he can feel your pussy tightening around him, your back muscles tight from tension. His hips move to meet yours, still trying to be subtle, but no longer so passive. You can feel your vision start to blur at the edges, it was becoming so hard to split your concentration. 

“Come for me”, his voice is low, breath ragged in your ear. “Come on my cock and I’ll fuck you like you deserve.”

 _Fuck_ , his words shot right through you, down to your core. Your arms tremble as you brace your forearms on the table, suddenly aware of a few eyes on you. _Did you just moan out loud?_

Their eyes are shrewd, glancing back down to their cards. You realize it’s your turn - did you mention how hard it was to concentrate? You play a card, locking in a 3 on the table. Sighing, you relax slightly as their eyes flick to your left. 

His fingers haven’t slowed, and your head tilts back the slightest bit, you’re _so_ close. Your muscles tighten, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to keep silent, everything feels just so intense. 

Your salvation comes in the form of a perfectly-timed sabacc shift, everyone’s cards begin to flash to a random suit. As groans and swears from around the table fills the air, you finally allow yourself to let go. 

Your walls clamp down on his cock, vision going white at the edges. Hands gripping the table, you hold as still as possible as you come, allowing a low, guttural moan to slip out amongst all the noise. Heart beating wildly, your head dips behind your cards as you pant, Boba’s fingers stroking you through as you come down. 

Tired eyes scan the room, but there’s no issues, no one notices your behavior. Without thinking, they slide automatically to your cards. The Ace card in your hand had shifted away to The Idiot, worth 0 points. Ah, well. There goes your strategy. 

Boba’s fingers carefully leave you, his hands lifting your thighs so he can slide out of you. You slump against him, allowing your back to rest against his chest contentedly. His cock lays tucked between your thighs, still hard and stiff. 

The player next to you calls, drawing the attention of the table. He uses this moment to lift you again, tucking his cock back into his trousers. His gloves slip into his belt, and he lounges back into a relaxing pose. 

The turn passes to you, and you draw from your pile automatically, freezing when you see it’s a 2. Eyes flick from your cards to the Sabacc Pot, which has grown to be very sizable. You start to lock in your cards when Boba leans in close, helmet brushing the side of your head as his hand wraps around your arm. 

“Let’s go. _Now_.” His voice is loud enough to hear over the voices of the cantina, the table freezes to look at him. 

You bite your lip, torn between listening and wanting to win that big, pretty pile of credits. His helmet follows your line of sight and he scoffs. 

“I don’t give a _fuck_ about those credits.” He growls, voice low so only you can hear it. “We’re leaving.”

Regretfully, you place your cards face-down, forfeiting the round. He tugs you forward and you’re half-walking, half-stumbling after him as he heads towards one of the exits, off to the side. 

Your eyes, now alert, flick around the cantina, but you don’t see or sense any danger. Maybe Boba can see something you cannot. This thought causes your hand to drift down to the sheath on your thigh. You feel the familiar, cool metal under your fingertips, ready to react if needed. 

He opens the side door and you follow him down the hallway. You gasp as he turns at the nearest alcove, swinging you around and pushing your back up against the door. Boba’s arms cage you in as he works a thigh between your legs, his still-hard erection digging into your hips. 

“Filthy girl.” His voice is achingly sweet and low. “Coming in front of _all_ those people.”

One gloved hand comes up, his thumb pressing against your lips. They part for him, and he slides it into your mouth, pressing gently against your tongue. Your tongue swirls around his digit, tasting the sweet tang of your release. You suck on it hard, leaving him groaning. 

“I thought about filling you up right there, but I missed hearing what my cock does to you.”

The Sabacc game now long forgotten, you release his finger with a soft pop and he drags it down your neck and chest, stopping at the neckline of your dress. He brushes his hand over the thin fabric, moulding his palm against your breast as he squeezes. You suck in a breath as his thumb brushes back and forth against the pucker of silk covering your nipple. 

“You want my cock, little one?” His voice is sinful, and you moan as he traps your sensitive nipple between his fingers. 

Nodding, your hands reach for him, pulling his hips tighter against yours and grinding against him. He repeats the action on the other side, large hand palming and squeezing. 

“ _Tell me_.” Both of his massive hands cover your chest, his rough fingers rasping over skin as he gently squeezes. 

“I want you in me, _now_.” Your eyes flutter shut with his ministrations, you love the way your body always responds to his touch. You could already feel your arousal, hot and damp between your thighs. 

“Out here, little one?” He asks, with amusement in his voice, “You _are_ feeling daring today.”

In response, you blindly grasp for the side panel of the alcove, scanning your thumbprint to access the deserted meeting room. _Fuck it_ , you can delete the records later. But maybe you will keep a copy of the security feed before wiping the data attached to the room. 

He walks you back towards the table that dominates the middle of the room, flanked with metal chains running down each side. His arm swipes out, slamming into the chair at the head of the table and sending it crashing to the floor. 

Picking you up, he places you on the edge of the table, stepping between your open legs. Your thighs wrap around him, drawing Boba closer to you and pressing his hips against yours. He hums, the outline of his hard cock rubbing against you. 

You hear the click and hiss as he removes his helmet, slamming it down on the table next to you. Your lips are on his in a moment, pressing hard against him, his tongue already swiping against your lower lip. You whine deep in your throat as his tongue invades your mouth, sweeping and stroking against yours. 

“This _fucking_ dress.” He breaks the kiss and growls, fingers sliding over your breasts again, “I want to rip this off you.”

“I just bought this.” You try to argue, your words turning into a low moan as he presses himself against you again. 

“I’ll buy you another.” He promises, gripping the soft fabric at your chest, ripping it down to your navel, your breasts spilling out of the top. 

You huff and his lips drop, kissing down your jaw and under your ear. You shiver against him, pressing as close to him as you can. His teeth graze against the smooth column of your neck before he nips, making you twitch beneath him. His tongue follows, smoothing over the pink, crescent-shaped mark. 

Any residual anger sweeps out when his mouth closes around a nipple. The sound you make is embarrassing, a breathy, high-pitched whine as his tongue scrapes over the sensitive skin. He places hot, open-mouthed kisses on your skin, pausing to scrape teeth along your smooth curves before making his way to the other side. 

He lifts his head and you lift your body with him, your hands traveling downwards. You cringe a little internally as you touch the slightly-damp fabric of his pants, evidence of your earlier orgasm. Tugging at the belts, you unbuckle his bandolier and tug down the zipper, palming his erection. 

His fingers tighten around your upper arms, and you shoot him a sly smile as you slide off the table. Boba Fett turns with you, bracing himself against the table as you settle yourself on your knees in front of him.

Drawing him out, your eyes flick up to his as you take him into your mouth. Just as quickly, they roll shut with a moan as you taste yourself on his skin. His fingers move automatically to tangle in your hair, holding your head steady as he presses his cock down your throat. 

Your hands brace on his muscular thighs, letting him use your mouth as he wishes. His cock moves in and out of your mouth, salvia coating it and making it slick. On the next thrust he pushes it deep, sliding it down your throat and making your eyes sting.

“You look so good taking my cock,” he groans, sliding himself out and watching your spit spider web between his length and your lips. 

Moaning around his length, you bob your head, letting your hands wander and stroke the base of his shaft. Your tongue sweeps over him, pressing against skin and swirling over the tip. With a final, hard suck, he gives a soft, low groan as you release him from your mouth. 

He pulls you to your feet, pressing your hips against the table as his lips find yours again. You sigh into his kiss, wrapping your arms around his cuirass. His hands grope you, moving over your ass and thighs as he pulls you against him. 

Boba Fett breaks the kiss and leans back, his eyes glancing down questioningly at you. Most of the time, you loved when he ate you out, making you come hard with his clever tongue. But tonight, you were feeling needy, and just wanted him to take you right now. You shake your head, bending over the table and shoving your ass into the air. 

“ _Later_.” You intended it to sound like a command, but your voice comes out low and breathy, “Just fuck me.” 

“Yes, _princess_.” The edges of his lips quirk up in a smile, and he steps behind you, tapping his cock against your ass. 

His thick body presses against yours, the metal on his thighs cool against the thin layers of your dress. You help him pull up the fabric, exposing your soft, bare skin. He hums, his hands brushing over your flesh, kneading and pressing his fingers against you. You make an impatient noise and he huffs a laugh, lining himself up behind you. 

“Ready, _mesh’la_?” He growls, pressing the tip against your wep, dripping folds. 

You rock back against him roughly in response, groaning as you take most of his length into you with one stroke. He lets out a low curse as his cock slides the rest of the way into you, still wet and ready from before. 

His hips rest flush against yours, his shaft buried deep into you. Hands smooth down your back as he rocks against you, letting your body adjust to his girth in you. After a few strokes you begin to move against him, urging him to pick up the speed. 

Boba presses a hand against the back of your neck, pressing your head and shoulders against the table, causing your back and hips to arch beneath him. He thrusts hard and down into you, bottoming out inside your cunt. 

“Wanted to bend you over the sabacc table,” He snarls, his other hand grasping the soft flesh of your ass. “Fuck you in front of everyone. They would all know you’re _mine_.” 

“ _Fuck_ , Boba.” Is all you can manage, being crushed into the table like that. Your elbows bend and your hands grip the edge of the table, using the leverage to push back against him. 

“Would you like that, little one?” Boba Fett growls, slowing his pace, drawing almost out of you all the way, before easing back in. 

“ _Yes_ ,” You hum, arching your back even more beneath him. “I’d ride you on your throne if you wanted me to.”

You heard a heavy intake of breath, air sucking in over clenched teeth before he answers, “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.”

Flushing at the thought, you duck your head as he renews his efforts, fucking you roughly into the table, his heavy sack slapping against your pussy. You can feel your hip and tits bounce against the smooth durasteel tabletop with every thrust, the wet sound of slapping flesh filling the room, punctuated by your moans of pleasure. 

His hands close around your waist, lifting you onto your tiptoes. His next thrust causes your eyes to roll shut, his cock hitting you just right _there_. 

“ _Stars_ , do that again.” You beg, clenching around him. 

Boba hums, rocking back into you, causing the breath to whoosh out of your lungs. One hand leaves your waist, dipping below you to brush against your aching clit. The combination feels incredible, your fingernails scrape across the table as you try to meet his movements. 

“So tight, so _eager_.” He praises, his voice low and rough. His hips slam against yours, you’re sure you will have bruises tomorrow. 

His fingers circle harder, and you can feel the muscles in your chest tighten. Boba knows just how to tease you, he can draw it out for hours, or have you writhing in pleasure in minutes. He must be worked up, you’re already hurtling towards the edge again. 

Your breath is coming in quick pants, your vision narrowing, “ _Fuck_ \- Boba, I’m so-”

“No.” Snarling, his fingers slow, barely twitching against you, “ _Beg_ me for it.”

A low whine slides from your throat as the pressure just starts to wane. You try to press your hips down against his hand, but he’s holding you still, cock seated firmly within you. Part of you wants to rebel, but you’re so worked up you can hardly see straight. 

“ _Please_ ,” you manage, tempering your voice to a plea instead of a frustrated growl. 

He’s not satisfied by your answer at all, and his hands leave your clit completely. You immediately backpedal, regretting your half-assed attempt. Before you can speak, his hand comes crashing down against your ass, causing you to jerk underneath in surprise. 

“Greedily little girl.” His voice is dark, fingers sinking into the pink flesh of your cheek. “I don’t think you _deserve_ to come again.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” you breath again. 

He wasn’t kidding, you had been left high and dry before. A few weeks ago, the two of you had been making up after a petty argument. While he was deep inside you, you thought it was a bright idea to snark off about earlier that night. With a low growl, he had held you still beneath him, using your body like a cocksleeve. After a few quick thrusts he had come from sheer willpower alone, leaving you teetering just on the edge and overwhelmingly frustrated as your orgasm fizzled out. 

Not wanting to repeat that again, you swallow your pride, rally and then try again. 

“Kriff, Boba, _please-_ ” You turn your head to face him, doing your best to rock against him. “I need it, I need to come on your cock.”

He seems to consider this, letting his fingers just barely press against you, “Is that right?”

You let out a strangled “ _yes_ ”, drawing the word out to several syllables as the rough pad of his finger brushes against your clit. It’s not enough, but it’s a start. 

“Your thick cock is so _fucking_ perfect,” You breathe, letting your eyes roll shut. “No one fucks me like you do.” 

“You learn fast, princess.” His hips jut forward, and he starts to move again, circling your bud with renewed effort. 

It only takes you a moment to catch back up. Your hips start to rock, your breath coming out in little, whiny pants. One of your hands leaves the table, coming to tease your nipple. His body curves over yours, pressing his weight into you and crushing you into the tabletop. 

“One more, come on.” He urges, his breath hot in your ear, “Let me feel that sweet pussy tighten around my cock.”

Goosebumps erupt over your skin at the sound of his deep, demanding voice. His nose brushes your neck again and he bites down, harder this time, on the juncture of your neck. You whimper, your body responding to the mixture of pain and pleasure, sending you finally over the edge. 

Your muscles tighten, lips falling open as you moan loudly, convulsing around him. Your earlier orgasm was gentle, brought forth from a long stretch of teasing. This one was like an explosion, starting in your core and radiating out to your fingertips and toes, leaving you feeling boneless and breathless.

“ _Such_ a good girl.” His voice is strained, you can sense he is close as well. 

Your body relaxes, all the tension seeping out as you catch your breath. Biting your lip, you glance over your shoulder at the Mandalorian fucking you, his brow furrowed in concentration. His eyes are focusing on where your bodies are joined, watching his length disappear inside you. 

He catches you staring, his eyes darkening as he watches you watch him. No one gets to see him like you do, bare-faced and lips parting with exertion, his strong muscles flexing with each movement. 

The corners of your lips turn up, eyes full of love and lust. You clench your pussy around his cock, staring into the depths of his deep, brown eyes as you beg him to fill you up with his come. 

Boba’s eyes scan your face greedily, the hint of a smile on his lips before his body is flexing against you. He picks up the pace, fucking you like he just came back from a month-long hunt. He ruts into you like a wild animal, low curses and growls falling freely from his lips. 

Suddenly he roars, leaning back and bringing your body up with him. You arch against his, one of his arms coming to wrap across your chest, gripping your shoulder. His other arm spans your waist, and he holds you upright against him as he comes, unloading deep into you with a hard thrust. You can feel his cock pulsate within your walls, spilling pump after pump of hot come inside you.

“Take all of it.” He growls against your skin, hips jerking reflexively, “I want my come dripping out of you for the rest of the night.”

You remain as still as you can beneath him, letting him ride out his orgasm with shallow thrusts, his face pressed into the curve of your neck. His breath is hot against your bruised, bitten skin, and he moans out sweet praises that make your chest tighten. 

After several long heartbeats, he lets out a long, relaxing breath, his cock still pressed firmly inside you. You stay like that for a few moments longer before he slides out, a low whine escaping your lips as he leaves you feeling aching and empty. 

Boba gently flips you over, laying your back against the hard table. His body leans on yours, the weight welcome and familiar. Your arms wind around his neck, pulling his lips to yours and he kisses you gently, the aggression from before long gone. His arms curve around your waist, keeping pressed you close against him. 

After a few moments of comfortable silence he leans back, bracing himself on the table as he tucks his cock into his trousers. His eyes rover over you for a moment, memorizing your form splayed out across the table, a hint of a smile on his face as he reaches for his helmet. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you prop yourself up on your elbows, meeting his gaze with a sly smile, “And you said I didn’t know how to have any fun.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **References:**  
>  **The Mistress -** a sabacc card worth 13 points  
>  **The Master -** a Sabacc card worth 14 points  
>  **T’Bac** \- Star Wars version of tobacco, smoked in cigarras or in tabac pipes, producing smoke with a distinctive odor  
>  **Bith** \- have hairless, domed heads and black, glassy eyes. Peaceful race, most often choosing professions as musicians, scientists, and engineers  
>  **Sabacc** \- a high-stakes, popular card game with the goal of getting either 23/-23 points  
>  **Outlander** \- nickname someone from off-planet / an outsider to the local culture  
>  **Trandoshan** \- tall, reptilian-like humanoids from the planet Trandosha  
>  **“Bomb out” -** when you play cards worth more than 24 in sabacc, losing the round  
>  **Sabacc Shift** \- a random moment during sabacc where all cards in your hand shift to another suit/value  
>  **The Ace** -a Sabacc card worth 15 points  
>  **Idiot’s Array** \- a rare combination of the 0,2,3 cards, making up the “23” points of sabacc. This is the only hand that can beat a “Pure Sabacc” hand of exactly 23 points.  
>  **Mesh’la** \- Mando’a for “beautiful”
> 
> ( And yes, I did watch a bunch of videos about Sabacc so that I could write this story semi-accurately, haha)
> 
> [Check me out on Twitter here!](https://mobile.twitter.com/tibbietibbs)  
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